Read The Gates Online

Authors: Rachael Wade

The Gates

THE GATES

RACHAEL WADE

ALSO BY RACHAEL WADE

Amaranth,
The Resistance Trilogy
, Book One

The Tragedy of Knowledge,
The Resistance Trilogy
, Book Three
(Coming Soon)

Preservation
(Coming May 2012)

PRAISE FOR AMARANTH

“A beautifully written story about love, sacrifice, and friendship that has a lot of fun twists and turns.”

-Seeing Night Reviews 

“As wonderful and enchanting as its beautiful cover…”

-Shadow Kisses Reviews

“…a new, exciting, and riveting tale of love and loss. The part that really stood out for me was that it is not just about fighting for your love, your soul mate, but it was about redemption of an entire clan so to speak.”

-Alchemy of Annes Anomalies Reviews

“...I was hooked from the first chapter. I just wanted to step into the dark, dangerous world of Amaranth.”

-Fiction Fascination Book Reviews

“A fantastic journey from beginning to end.”

-Gothic Angel Book Reviews

“…far from ‘just another vampire book.’ ”

-Live to Read Book Reviews

“Amaranth was in NO way a direction that my mind EVER would have gone. Talk about beautifully written, Rachael built a world that is absolutely stunning!”

-Taking it One Book at a Time Reviews

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Copyright © 2012 Rachael Wade

Rabbit Hole Press

Orlando, Florida

www.RachaelWade.com

Cover Design: Robin Ludwig Design Inc.

Editor: Arlene Robinson

DEDICATION

To anyone looking for direction.

May your passion lead the way to purpose.

Ever forward.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many thanks to:

Dave, for your tireless support and love.

Pat, for your spirit.

Book blogger and reader friends, for your enthusiasm,

passion, and friendship.

God, for love overflowing.

P
ROLOGUE

1.
G
ONE WITH THE
W
IND

2.
M
IDNIGHT IN
M
ONTMARTRE

3.
D
OWN THE
R
ABBIT
H
OLE

4.
I
NVINCIBLE

5.
R
USSIAN
R
OULETTE

6.
S
CARLET
F
EVER

7.
T
HE
B
EGINNING OF
T
HINGS TO
C
OME

8.
D
ISTRACTIONS

9.
S
ECRETS

10.
C
ARPE
D
IEM

11.
B
LOOD
P
RESSURE

12.
G
ESTURE

13.
T
URNING
T
ABLES

14.
O
VERFLOW

15.
L
ACRIMOSA

16.
F
IRE

17.
P
RIORITIES

18.
W
ORDS OF
W
ISDOM

E
PILOGUE

PROLOGUE

THE UPRISING

1890, Amaranth

Arianna

“My pure, sweet girl, Arianna. What has he done to you?” Samira, my mother, asked this in a strained voice as she floated down the throne steps toward me; her eyes filled with grief at the sight of my glowing skin. I worked hard to keep my gaze low and my fangs out of sight. Resentment flooded my chest, the anger simmering, and I was furious at her unconcern for my heartbreak, instead concerned with her own agenda to keep me human.

“My sweet girl. Please, look at me, my child.”

Determined, I kept my stare lowered to the castle’s cold stone floor, rolled my eyes from left to right, thankful for the lack of servants and the absence of Dali and Akim, her pet wolves, both as evil as she. At least my mother had enough respect to clear the room and keep our matters private.

I lifted my chin and my gaze locked with hers, meeting her arctic blue eyes with vengeance. “Samira,” my voice fell flat, hoping my address stung her maternal pride, “Joel will come. Now let Marie escort me to the gates for the change. I will wait for him there, and you
will
do him no harm when he visits.”

Anguish washed her face.

“Mother.” I glared at her. “He will come.
And you will do him no harm.

“Please, Arianna.” She reached out to touch me but I flinched, stepped backward. “Please my child, tell me why. He pressured you to change, did he not?”

“Joel did no such thing. Why is it so difficult for you to accept that I chose this on my own? I asked him to change me,
Mother
.” My resentment surfaced, bubbling as it gave way to exasperation. “Don’t waste your breath on false sympathy. I’m not a fool. You are thrilled I’ve returned to live in exile. Thrilled that Joel and I didn’t last. You want me locked away, miserable, because you’re miserable without my father. You’ve been betrayed, and you want to hurt someone like the cold, heartless monster you are—”

Her red nails swiped my face as she smacked me; her fist tightened as she used her magic to blow me across the room. I pulled myself up to stand and ran a finger across my cheek where blood now oozed, dark and cold, toward my chin. “Now
that’s
the Samira we all know and love.”

Her face flushed with shame, her breathing quickened while she gripped her chest with one hand. Reaching out, she twisted her fist in front of her again, her magic holding me in place so she could approach me and take my chin in her hands, gentle this time with her blood-red nails.

“Contrary to what you believe, I’d never harm the one you love.” A single raspy breath escaped her lips. “Though I shall never trust him in your presence again.” She pulled her head back slightly to assess my eyes, searching, desperate for something. “Your father knows not what he has done. You are a miracle. An angel. You’ve been swayed by his magic. And he was a fool to ever take you from me.” Angry tears welled in her eyes, momentarily softening her rigid exterior. I almost felt sorry for her, until I remembered the innocent lives she casually took, the rage she housed for my father and her own kind, her need to control and to take out her bitterness on the Amaranthians.

My empathy dissolved.

“This has nothing to do with Father,” I said. “I was eighteen when he took me from Amaranth, Samira. I was of age and of sound mind, free to make my own choices. I’ve seen what it means to live as both human and a frozen soul.
And I made a choice
to be with the one I love.”

I felt the ravenous power slowly weaken around my torso as her fist uncurled in front of me, and I was now able to relax my shoulders and move freely again. Warm thoughts of Gavin, my earthly brother, flitted across my mind. My father had sent me to live with him and his family, an adopted family per se. Living with them on earth, I’d been able to think freely, to decide whether I wanted to remain human. My relationship with Joel led me to my decision to be a vampire, much to my mother’s dismay.

She hung her head, turned to retreat to her Louis XV chair. “I will do Joel no harm, and will grant him regular visitation to the gates, as you wish. But you are requesting to be human, Arianna, to be an Amaranthian. Just remember that no good will come from hanging on to a frozen soul who wishes to live on earth. No good at all, my daughter.”

“I don’t regret the choice I made to change, Samira. Joel’s decision to remain vampire has hurt me, but I’d do it all again.” I turned to the wooden doors where Marie stood, peeking in, hissing at me under her breath for leaving her son. Samira motioned her to lead me away, then stood and strolled to the fireplace behind her throne, her back to me. Without another word, I followed Marie out of the dreary room and began to sob, aware that despite my hopes of Joel visiting me, my love with him was truly severed. I would now be alone again, amidst the countless human souls in Amaranth who also chose the hard, solitary life of reformation, who chose to have their curses lifted and spend eternity here in exile.

* * *

Much to my despair, Joel never showed at the exile entrance gates. I waited weeks and weeks for him, every day rushing to the golden bars where I hoped to see his face appear. I’d watched when new vampires arrived and were ushered through. Watched as they transformed from monster to human again as they passed the threshold, their eyes revealing fear and then wonder as Samira’s magic lifted their curse with the admittance. The gates loomed high, angelic in their brass, golden glory, attached to a thick stone wall that rolled out like a ringed fortress surrounding the villages of the city below. Rows of guards lined the walls like statues.

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